Scribble Hearts
by Fanwright
Summary: In the early hours of a winter morning in the South Pole, after a special ceremony, Sokka takes the opportunity to sketch Azula as she rests among the furs, the afterglow of the night before creating an aura impossible to pass up. One-shot.


**Scribble Hearts**

**Sokkla One-shot**

It was a cold and windy morning from what Sokka could hear outside his igloo.

As he rested his head on the warm fur that lined the thick snow walls, he could hear the rising pitch of the howling winds battering themselves against the igloo. He pictured them as icy waves breaking upon a frigid white rock, powerful and unrelenting.

He guessed it was still fairly dark outside as well. Most mornings in the South Pole tended to be, especially during the winter season this time of year. He pictured the way the sun would shyly peek its head over the horizon if there were no snowstorm to cloud out the light. If he had been in any other warmer place in the world he would still be fast asleep, probably being pestered to wake up. Old habits seemed to revive themselves when home though and like a firebender he rose with the winter sun.

Sokka sighed contently as he raised his hands behind his head and rested them against the fur lined wall, smiling. He basked in the warmth of his small world, bare-chested on his fur mat as he let the heat dry his sweaty skin. He could get away with being a little indecent in the privacy of his own home. And in such a cozy place, safe from the harshness of the icy winds of the south, Sokka could truly relax and unwind.

A soft glow gently crackled in the hearth, casting a dim orange light across the fur-lined room. Sokka's gaze drifted lazily from it, half-lidded eyes taking in the small details of the dome-shaped interior, a story behind each knick-knack and oddity.

There were the myriad of fur pelts hanging from the walls of course; some dyed a Water Tribe blue, others gray or white, either spotted or striped. Most were from tiger-seals or koala-otters, with the odd wolf pelt here and there. He hung a white polar leopard pelt in a special place just above the entrance, the only one he ever successfully hunted. Those were hard days when he took that pelt, days hunting alone without his father, with starvation hanging in the back of his mind. Most of the pelts were given to him though, as congratulatory gifts from the ceremony.

Then there were the pieces of furniture strewn about from what Sokka could see, off in corners or hanging from the ceiling. Chests filled with clothing from around the world, souvenirs of precious metals picked up from his travels or given as gifts, and even a pristine set of Fire Nation cooking pots hanging from a rack on the ceiling. The red scented candles, also of Fire Nation origin, were already used up and melted. A hint of jasmine still lingered in the air, calming and refreshing. Sokka decided he could get used to the smell. It was far better than the usual musk.

Several unfinished inventions yet to be scraped or tweaked were on a tiny workbench off in a corner, the dim light casting oddly shaped shadows over them.

"I might need to fix that…and that", Sokka mumbled as he scratched the back of his head, grimacing at the broken water filtration device and the unusual metal contraption he called a 'foldable sword'.

There were the weapons as well, hanging on racks on the walls or leaning by the tunnel entrance to the igloo. As he turned his gaze from the workbench, Sokka could make out the shapes of spears, clubs, and machetes hewn from the bones of whales and wolfs. His smile widened. It was his personal arsenal, meant for every task known in the tribe. Boomerang hung on a hook by the mat within arms reach of course. The jaw-blade he kept under a pillow. At the thought of Space Sword Sokka's smile briefly turned into a frown.

"Would've been beside you, Boomerang", Sokka whispered, pouting as he looked up toward the empty spot above him.

He didn't dwell on the thought very long though as the light from the fire caught the subtle gleam of two sets of armor on racks near the foot of the fur mat. One set was his wolf-armor, its iron gray gauntlets and shin guards placed neatly beside it. It was worn in some places, with the leather looking as if it had seen better days and the fabric shoddily patched up, but it was well used and still durable. Sokka narrowed his eyes at the armor, grimacing as he made a mental note to patch it up properly while he was still in the South Pole.

His eyes then drifted to the second set beside his. He smiled again. It was iron-forged, predominantly black with gold trim, pointy in some places, and noticeably polished. It didn't take a keen eye to know it was Fire Nation in origin, but a keener one to know it was fitted for royalty.

Two people in the world were meant to wear that type, but he knew of only one person that still wore it with a measure of pride toward its upkeep and design. Fortunately for Sokka, he didn't have to look very far to find her.

He rested his hands in his lap as he smiled gently at the owner of the armor sleeping close to him under the pelts of the fur mat. She breathed softly, like a slumbering snow hamster curled up in its den. She faced Sokka, a subtle, contented look playing at her features behind disheveled strands of damp hair. Tiny droplets of sweat glimmered on her exposed shoulders in the dim firelight, almost making her glow. An outstretched arm rested on the spot he previously laid on, for want of company.

Sokka shook his head gently as he continued to smile, the small mass in his chest thumping as he gazed at Azula, admiring her.

"Can't believe we finally did it", whispered Sokka as he leaned down closer to Azula, gently brushing away the damp strands of hair as he tucked them behind her ear.

She hardly stirred as he lightly traced his calloused fingers from her cheek down to her neck, relishing the smooth and warm texture. His gaze fell upon a black satin choker, gently tracing his fingers along the outline until they felt the smooth golden surface that completed Azula's betrothal necklace.

"I really can't", he whispered before he kissed her forehead softly.

She stirred at that, her face scrunching into a small frown as she turned over to rest on her back, but did not wake. Sokka froze, his eyes widened as her arm pushed away the fur covers, coming to rest on the exposed skin of her stomach. His heart beat little faster as she got comfortable once again. This wasn't the first time they shared a bed naked, but looking upon Azula in such a way always made Sokka's heart jump as if he was seeing her like this for the first time.

"Why do you have to be this beautiful all the time?" Sokka whispered to himself as he reached for the fur blanket to pull back over Azula, "Honestly, its like you're not even trying."

He gently pulled the blanket back over Azula until he stopped just above her waist. He caught a soft, golden gleam from the corner of his eye. Azula's betrothal necklace caught the dim light of the hearth. It lit her exposed pale skin, droplets of sweat glinting off her body in the softest way. Strands of hair were parted to one side, cascading off one of her shoulders. An arm was stretch lazily above her head on the pillow, while another rested on her stomach. To Sokka, she seemed completely at peace with herself. Yet, he never imagined the sweat on a woman could make them look so enticing at the same time.

"Oh spirits I'm weird," Sokka gulped, his throat feeling a bit parched as he licked the edges of his lips.

He blinked, feeling slack-jawed as his heart continued to beat faster. He remained still, not knowing what he should be doing. He knew he should do… _something_.

And then it hit him. It was like the spark from a flint that would ignite an inner fire. His eyes widened and he gasped lightly, the realization filling him with a sudden impulse of joy. It was like discovering the secret of air balloon flight or realizing he had The Boulder's autograph all over again.

The lighting, the look of contentment on her face, the feeling of peace, the way she seemed to glow in the dimness of the room, the way she softly breathed, everything seemed to come into place. All Sokka needed to do was seize the opportunity. He didn't know if he would get another chance like this.

"I…oh, man," Sokka whispered enthusiastically, "I _really_ need to draw you."

He felt giddy. After all that time lying awake, wasting away minutes just looking aimlessly around his room, he didn't realize the perfect opportunity to make another sketch of Azula was presented to him. He had to make the most of it.

"You," he whispered toward the sleeping Azula, pointing a finger at her, "Don't move."

Sokka crawled as quietly as he could toward one of the small wooden boxes at the foot of the mat. A small chill made him pause before he decided to first put on some clothes. He found his casual gi next to a pile of red robes, a corset, and some blue trousers, tossed to the side during night. He remembered what a pain it was getting the corset off Azula and the look of relief she gave him when finally did, before she pushed him down onto the mat.

"Good thing it was only for the ceremony," he mumbled, putting on his gi, "Looked painful on her anyway."

As he crawled back toward the box, he suddenly became aware of a series of stings on his back and neck, irritated by the rough fabric of his gi.

"Oh great…" he mumbled, feeling behind him and pressing his fingers to his back.

He winced at the sharp pain, pulling his hand away from the cuts on his back. He felt the side of his neck and hissed slightly at the tender burn mark left there.

"Still scabbing over" Sokka sighed, turning toward Azula, "Thank you for more wonderful souvenirs, my love."

The pain was relatively tolerable, as long he didn't touch them. As he crawled back to the wooden box, Sokka made another mental note to put some healing salve on his back and neck later. He wanted to get that sketch down first, before he lost the spark.

He opened the box, sifting through scrolls and various papyrus documents until he found his leather sketchbook and graphite. It was worn and rough around the edges, having been hastily put into packs or boxes to hide the evidence of his hobby. Thoughts of one day rivaling Lu Ban, Teo's father, with his own skill in sketching first compelled him to get the book. Since then he had been sketching the wild ideas he had for inventions, as well as people he observed from a distance in their own little worlds.

He took his seat on the mat again some distance away from Azula, trying to get the right position to properly trace the shadows and outlines based on the light. When he was comfortable again he put the graphite behind his ear, licked his thumb, and quietly flipped through the pages to find a blank one.

As he briefly glanced at the many pages he drew on, Sokka felt his sketches now rivaled the great mural halls in Ba Sing Se's palace. For modesty's sake of course he kept his work to himself, avoiding any prying, overly critical remarks. Azula and many of his friends knew he kept a sketchbook, but he never shared what he drew in it. The world was not ready for such magnificent sketches, he thought, nor did he feel ready to have them critiqued.

"Got to make sure this one comes out right though," he muttered quietly, continuing to flip through pages until he found a blank one.

He felt determined, eager to finally get a finished sketch of Azula. With everything laid out so well before him, he would be foolish to pass this moment up. He took the graphite from his ear and carefully sharpened the tip with a small knife he kept in the book. He honed the tip as quietly as he could, glancing back at Azula with every stroke, hoping she wouldn't hear.

"Okay then," Sokka said, putting the knife away as he took a deep breath, readying himself to take the first stroke, "Lets make a masterpiece."

He decided to start with an outline of her head resting on the pillow, making gentle strokes to get the general shape. Sokka always hated the fact that he had to start with an outline instead of just drawing her head and hair, but he guessed even the best had to start off somewhere.

From there he figured he would trace her neck, getting the arm that rested above her, add in the details, and make his way down to sketch the outline of the rest of her body.

As he continued with the outline, he made brief glances at Azula to make sure the curves and subtle angles were right, simultaneously admiring her form. He wondered if all artists got aroused when sketching people in the nude. He figured the more inexperienced ones thought this way, that or get so flustered they would just shake uncontrollably with embarrassment.

"Have I gotten like that before?" Sokka whispered thoughtfully to himself, pausing to reflect on all the instances he sketched Azula like this.

He decided a little of both happened on some occasions.

"You got what now?" a familiar voice accused him.

Sokka froze, his eyes widened at the suspicious tone in the woman's voice. He could have sworn he was as quiet as he could be.

"Why do you keep moving around and mumbling?" Azula asked again, yawning as she propped herself up by her forearms, narrowing his eyes at him, "You make so much noise."

That answered that question. Now he wondered if he should answer hers. One thing was for sure though: he couldn't let Azula see his sketches, especially the ones with her in them.

"Oh, you know, just reading an old book of mine," he lied, trying to hide the graphite in his palm as he hid it under a fur pelt, "Couldn't really sleep. There's a storm outside, you know."

Azula raised an eyebrow at him, sitting up as she pulled the fur covers over her shoulders and listened to the wind blowing outside. Sokka groaned internally. His perfect opportunity was now tragically swept aside. And he was so close too.

"Right, and I suppose you are taking notes with that as you go along?" Azula asked, smirking as she pointed an inquisitive finger at the graphite in his hand.

"Yep," he lied again, smiling nervously as he was caught hiding the graphite, "Taking notes as well."

Sokka could tell Azula wasn't convinced and he hoped he wouldn't be asked to show his sketchbook to her. After all that was said and done the day and night before Sokka now felt completely obliged to obey her, if not reluctantly.

"Its your sketchbook isn't it?" She said, still smirking, "The very book you've been so afraid to show everyone else."

"I just said it was an old book I was reading", Sokka denied, quickly closing the book.

"Oh? What is it about then?" she asked, bundling her self under the pelts to listen eagerly to his obvious lie.

"…Animals" he said after quickly darting his eyes around the room, "Water Tribe animals."

"I see," she said, tapping her chin with a finger, "And this _animal_ book of yours, does it contain detailed sketches? Explanations on how to hunt, trap, skin, or cook them?"

"…Yes", he said

"Yes what?" she asked.

"It has… everything in it."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"It has what you said in it."

"Which was?"

"Everything."

There was a pause as they stared at each other, Sokka still smiling nervously while Azula's smirk twisted into a frown. She ran her fingers through her damp hair and parted it to the side, lips pursed.

"You're ambiguity only makes me more curious, _dear_," said Azula, "Its in your best interest to appease my curiosity, lest something embarrassing happens to you."

"Right, 'cause a threat is always a good way to make someone feel better about sharing secrets," Sokka said, smirking, "Curiosity skins the cat-owl, _my love_. Sometimes you just have to let it be."

"Says the skinned cat-owl who licks cave fungus," retorted Azula, making Sokka furrow his brow. He always regretted telling her that story.

She held out her hand from under the covers wrapped around her, a big devious smile on her face.

"Give me the sketchbook, Sokka", she said, "I promise I'll only critique your work honestly."

Her words were laced with the sweetness of buzzard-wasp honey. Sokka narrowed his eyes, unconvinced.

"You mean negatively," he retorted.

"I prefer 'critically', but yes that too," she said, making Sokka roll his eyes.

It all came down to this now, Sokka thought. He knew the dignity, indeed the very sanctity, of his precious sketches hinged on one decision. He knew he was cornered. He could either peacefully appease her curiosity and hand her the book… or make a last valiant stand.

Sokka quickly wrapped his arms around the book, tightly pressing it to his chest as he held it away from Azula.

"You want it so bad, then come and get it" teased Sokka, sticking his tongue out.

Azula raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side, smirking. She threw off the fur pelts, exposing her bare skin. Sokka's heart throbbed with anticipation.

"Very mature," she purred, before pouncing on him with the full force of a tigerdillo.

They tossed and turned on the fur pelts, grappling with each other, vying for dominance. She pinched, poked, and even tickled him at one point, but he managed to hold her off as he held the book to his chest. Sokka tried to shield himself as he scrunched into a ball, but Azula was persistent. They made a new mess of the covers.

Just as he had Azula on her back, she swiftly countered by rolling him onto his instead. He yelped as she pinned him to the fur mat, straddling him just above the waist as her forearm pressed against his neck. She had the hand he held the book in pinned at the wrist above his head.

Both were panting and Sokka could see little beads of sweat dripping from her forehead behind a messy curtain of black hair. He could feel her warmth pressed firmly against him as she straddled him just above the waist, her bare skin making her all the more enticing. She was close to him now, feeling the warmth in her breath behind the disheveled strands of hair.

"Never a dull morning," she said after a deep, satisfied breath, "I'll be taking that book now."

Sokka pouted, narrowing his eyes at Azula. He had taken a wild gamble and lost. Though he still felt very reluctant to give her the book, he knew delaying the inevitable was futile. Better to just let her see it in the privacy of their home rather than find her sharing it with others. He just hoped she didn't find the sketches of her in there.

"Fine," Sokka sighed raggedly, "But I'm only showing _you_ okay? Don't steal it and show it to anyone else."

Azula merely shrugged, relaxing her grip on his wrist as she snatched the sketchbook out of his hand. Sokka grunted and rolled his eyes. It would be the closest thing he would get to a 'yes'.

"Let us see what you have here, shall we?" Azula smirked, sitting up as she opened the sketchbook and flipped through the pages. Sokka merely grunted as a response.

Azula sat atop him while Sokka reluctantly folded his arms behind his head, resting on a pillow as she browsed his book. Azula stopped flipping pages as she paused to look at one of his sketches. She squinted, scrutinizing the work, until her face twisted into a mix of confusion and disgust. It was just what Sokka feared.

"What _is_ this thing?" she inquired sharply, turning the book around to shove it in his face "What is this black smear suppose to be, a bloated spider on skinny legs?

"What? No!" Sokka blurted out, "That's my water filtration device! It's sitting by my desk. Can't you tell?"

"_This_ is supposed to be your device?" Azula said, baffled, "It looks nothing like it! How in Agni's name did you make a filtration device from this… _thing_?"

"I-It was a r-rough sketch," Sokka stuttered, "I was tired and didn't feel like adding the details, okay?"

"Agni forbid you add details to it," she stated, flipping through other pages as Sokka growled in annoyance.

"Ah, finally a decent one!" she exclaimed, looking relieved, "Here I thought your artistry could not be redeemed. Why you would draw a wolf-bat though…"

"A wolf-bat?" Sokka interrupted, "I never drew one before. I hate those things!"

"Then explain _this,_" Azula said, shoving the open book in front of him again.

"Oh, that! That's my prototype glider design," Sokka said.

"Then why does it have a head?" Azula inquired.

"That's the pilot! Why? Can't you tell from the goggles and helmet he's wearing?"

"You fused him with the glider."

"I didn't fus-… ugh! Just flip the page. And it's not a wolf-bat, okay? It's a glider."

Azula rolled her eyes and turned a few more pages before something caught her eye. Her lips twisted into a painful smile, as she was barely able to contain a laugh.

"What is it _now_?" he asked, to which Azula finally let out a laugh.

"Is… is this supposed to be _Mai_?" she managed to utter between chuckles, turning the book toward him and pointing to a sketch of the girl drinking tea by a table.

"Uh, yeah, why?" asked Sokka.

"She looks like a man," Azula said, finally recovering, "And not a very good one at that. Her jaw is too square."

"Well, that was an old one I redid awhile back," Sokka pouted, "A lot of them are older ones. I've gotten better you know!"

"If you say so," Azula smirked, unconvinced.

This was shaping up exactly how he knew it would: people making fun of him at his expense over his sketches, crushing his hopes. Perhaps getting out the sketchbook was a bad idea, he thought. If Azula found the sketches with her in them, they may be the final nails in the coffin for his art's quality. It was only a matter of time…

Sokka sighed deeply as Azula continued to look through the book until she came across another sketch that held her attention. She paused, saying nothing as she studied the drawing.

"What? Found _another_ one make fun of?" Sokka asked.

"…No," said Azula, looking up from the sketchbook, "This one is actually half decent for a change."

His eyes widened at that. He propped himself up, resting on his elbows as he studied Azula's expression, disbelieving.

"Which picture are you looking at?" he asked.

She turned the book toward Sokka, showing him a rough sketch of an arena-like setting. Half finished pillars were darkly shaded, with high walls flanking them and the arena's platform lightly detailed. The picture was meant to draw the eye to a single, half-finished figure sitting on the edge of the arena. It was a woman, dressed in training clothes. She was deeply shaded and the expression on her face seemed one of deep anguish.

"It's me," she finally said, "That's me, isn't it? In the Agni Kai arena in the palace."

The expression on her face was one similar to a revelation to Sokka. He understood why, though. He remembered that day very well. So did Azula by the way she looked at him.

"Yeah, it is," he admitted, taking the book from her to look at it closely, "Probably recognized the clothing too."

"You were there before I started training," she said, looking at him more intently. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," he admitted calmly, "I wanted to draw the arena for practice. Figure I try my hand at sketching some architecture. It's why the pillars are more detailed but unfinished."

"You were there for a long time weren't you?" she asked, to which Sokka nodded.

"I… at first I didn't mean to sketch you," Sokka admitted as Azula listened, "When you entered the arena I decided to stay and leave you alone while you practiced. We still weren't exactly friendly then, even after getting out of the Valley. I just continued drawing the rest of the place around you."

"Can't draw moving figures, can you?" she said.

"No," he answered, "Still can't, but when you stopped to take a break…I decided to give you shot. Why not, right? I had drawn almost everyone else I knew except you. Figured I'd stay where I was and keep my distance from you though. You were still… _angry_ back then."

"That's not the right word," Azula said resentfully, turning her head away from him, "And you know that's putting it lightly."

"I know," Sokka said gently, placing a comforting hand on Azula's leg, "I guess its when I started sketching you here that I really started seeing something different about you."

Azula eyes widened, catching a glint of light from the dim fire. Sokka knew he said similar things to this, but it felt as if he were saying it for the first time all over again.

"It was the way I drew your expression I think," he continued, sitting up to meet her gaze, "The way your face was twisted up and bitter looking, like you couldn't win at something no matter how hard you tried. I never saw you look so… _lost_, even in the Valley"

"You remember why though?" Azula said, her tone suddenly quieter and sullen, "It was my bending. It was much weaker then. I couldn't even conjure blue fire. I had to try something to put my mind at ease. I felt like I had nothing to strive for, no purpose…"

Azula's eyes seemed to grow distant, the golden glint growing duller as she recalled those darker days. Sokka frowned, feeling dismal. Neither of them liked recalling such a troubled past. It was one of conflict and spitefulness, with many days arguing just to come to an understanding. She always felt distant when talking about such things.

Sokka leaned closer to her, setting the book aside as he placed a hand under her chin, turning her head toward him. He gently ran his hand through her hair, parting loose strands from her eyes.

"Its why I stopped sketching for a bit," Sokka added, bringing her back to him as he continued the motion, "It didn't feel right after awhile, drawing someone like that. So I took a risk and, well, decided to talk to you."

"I remember how _that_ talk turned out," Azula said as she moved away the folds of his gi with her hand, revealing a faint burn mark on his chest, "Even your sister couldn't heal it properly."

"That was a crazy day," Sokka said as Azula traced the mark with her fingers, lost in thought, "You were so mad at me when I tried to help you. I got you to bend blue fire for a bit though."

"It was a blue spark," Azula reluctantly said, still sullen, "Nothing more. 'Help' isn't the right word either. It took me some time to regain the will necessary conjure it, longer than I liked."

"But you did," added Sokka, smiling as he looked into her eyes, a hand now on her cheek. He could practically see the glow return to those golden eyes of hers.

"Yes, I did," Azula said, looking noticeably more confident, "Your… _help_ played some part in that."

"Way to be modest about it, Azula," Sokka said, smiling widely as Azula rolled her eyes.

He felt relieved as she picked up the book again, climbing off his lap and wrapping herself in the fur pelts. One of the promises Sokka made to himself was to prevent that spark from fading in her eyes. She had plenty of will now to keep it going herself, but a little help now and then went a long way. He was just happy he could be the one to help her.

Sokka also felt a little confident now. He knew he had some decent sketches, but for Azula, of all people, to admit that at least one was good felt like a huge accomplishment. He tightened the bindings of his gi and wrapped a pelt around his shoulders, basking in the warmth of victory.

That is until Azula found another sketch.

There was a surprised gasp and as Sokka turned to look at her he felt the blood drain from his veins. Her eyes seemed to glint like fire and her grip tightened on the cover of the book. An expression of rage twisted her previously calm features. He could hear a small growling sound. The picture she was looking at obviously did not satisfy her.

"And who is _this_ supposed to be?" Azula asked him, showing him another sketch.

The glare she shot his way was like a dagger pointed to his throat. Sokka gulped, confused and utterly shocked by her new demeanor.

"Why are you mad?" he asked, as calmly as possible, "It's not decent?"

"The quality of the sketch is the last thing you should be worried about if don't answer me," Azula demanded.

Sokka knew that serious tone. It was the kind of tone that one hears when feeling betrayed or cheated on, when any answer you gave was the difference between two very painful deaths. He decided taking another gamble when she was this serious would be very unwise.

He calmly took the book from her hand and looked over the sketch, her gaze like a predator circling its prey as he studied the picture.

Sokka could make out a room, deeply shaded as if cast in shadows, mimicking the same dim light in his igloo. There was a bed, large and luxurious, with the pillows and sheets a mess on the mattress. Again, the picture was meant to draw the eyes to a lone form lying on the bed. This one was a woman as well, her hair falling like a black curtain behind her back as she lay on her side, hiding her face as she slept. She was svelte and beautiful, as much as Sokka could have possibly made her, surprising himself at how much attention he put into the curves and dips of her back and legs. Her skin was meant to look as smooth as porcelain from what Sokka could tell by the shading. Only the presence of two jagged scars on the sides of her shoulder and hip seemed to disturb this illusion.

"Oh," said Sokka, sounding more elated than he should be. He could feel Azula's dagger like glare more prominently now.

"It's you," he finally said, "This one is you too. You couldn't tell?"

Azula's glare softened, but only a little. She carefully raised an eyebrow, still disbelieving in Sokka.

"The scars you got during your time in the Valley," he explained, moving closer to her to show her the sketch, "They're a dead giveaway…b-but I can see why you would think its someone else. I-I mean, you can't even see your face. If you'd have been facing the fire that time I would have…"

He trailed off, noting how Azula's expression didn't initially change. She took the sketchbook from him and studied the details a little closer. It was only when she sighed reluctantly that he was able to relax.

"Can't see clearly in this light," she grunted after rubbing her eyes.

Azula extended her arm toward the hearth as she stoked the flame with her firebending, making the interior brighter.

"It is pretty dark in here…" Sokka agreed, moving closer to Azula, "I think I can see why you would get confused."

"That, or I just assume too much," she retorted bitterly, "Always thinking someone will be out get m… _us_, before _we_ get them."

Her eyes were crestfallen and even the light of the fire didn't seem to lend them any luster. Sokka could feel her growing distant again.

"I'm sorry, Sokka," she said faintly, her tone like a whisper, "Old habits fade slowly."

"Azula," Sokka said comfortingly, lifting her chin up slowly to meet his gaze, "C'mon, it was an honest mistake. No harm done, right? I'm not mad."

He moved next to her as he placed the book aside, placing an arm around her shoulders as they sat facing the hearth. He expected her to move or nudge him away, seeing how she looked, but she didn't. Instead, Azula leaned against him, her arm wrapped around his waist, giving off a warm, cozy feeling. Sokka took that as a good sign. When words weren't enough, sometimes Azula would communicate by manipulating her body heat. He felt as snug as a wolf cub in its den because of it, so he felt Azula was okay.

"I know it wasn't easy putting all this together," Sokka said, pulling her closer, "And I know quite a few people gave us grief way before the ceremony. I just want you to know that you were worth it, Azula."

She wrapped another arm around his waist, nuzzling against him as he rested his cheek against her head. He could feel her body heat rising, far warmer than what the fire could emanate.

"And I mean it," he continued, slowly rubbing her shoulder, "I'd be foolish now to trade someone else over you. They wouldn't even be worth a scribble in my book. We've been through too much and got the scars to prove it."

"Some more than others," Azula added, patting the jagged scar on Sokka's stomach.

"I'm accident prone at times, you know that," Sokka said, "It happens."

"Indeed, either because of your recklessness, your stupidity, or me," she stated, tracing her fingers over the scratch marks on Sokka's back, making him wince.

"Mm-hm, _especially_ you," Sokka added, making them both chuckle.

As their laughter faded to silence, Sokka made himself comfortable and wrapped the fur pelts over both of them, content to simply sit by the hearth and enjoy the quiet company of his close companion. Azula sat by, reaching behind him to take the sketchbook and pass the time looking through his drawings. If she had any scathing remarks or criticism for them she seemed content to keep them to herself for now.

In the dim silence, watching the ambers of the fire drift like fireflies in the air, Sokka's mind reflected on the many events that bound them together and forged a companionship he could never had foreseen. Oddly enough, it wasn't always the great struggles or the darkest hours that brought them closer together, numerous as they were.

His time lost in the Forgetful Valley as he attempted to find Azula and bring her home opened his eyes to a soul filled with rage and growing uncertainty of her place in the world. Their harrowing journey together through a forest infested with malicious spirits and their eventual rescue forged a connection only made through a trial of trust, relying on each other to stay alive. The coup against Zuko and his attempts to help restore her bending only strengthen such an unlikely bond.

Yet, there were other things that brought them closer together. As Azula flipped through his sketchbook, he too gazed at the moments he captured. They were the smaller things, deeds whose worth was measured only by the individuals who partook in them. Simple acts with no motives or devious inclinations.

He wondered if all this was a twist of fate, how every sketch he captured her in was a moment spent falling in love with her.

He saw Azula pause on another half finished sketch of her, looking out onto a beach, fully clothed in her usual robes. He caught her distant expression from the side in that picture and remembered the unusual detail he placed in her face to get it right.

"I remember that one," he said, "Its when Zuko took Aang and us to the beach on Ember Island after the failed coup. Everyone got dressed to go out into the water except you and I caught you staying behind. I was in the shade relaxing."

There was something about her that day that didn't sit right with him as well, the way she stayed away from everyone.

"Never got to finish it," he said, "I decided pestering you would be better. I don't think you ever would have swam that day if I didn't mean it as a challenge."

Azula lightly jabbed him in the side as he chuckled, making him wince.

She turned the page to find another unfinished drawing of herself, this time with other people in it. It looked less detailed than the last, yet more emphasis was placed on the setting rather than the people. It was a picture of Azula with Aang and Katara on Appa's saddle, dressed in shabby robes as they rode high above a flowing landscape similar to the sea as the sun was setting.

"I remember that one too," Sokka said, "It was when we were over the Si Wong when Aang tried to get Wan Shi Tong to raise his library. It was harder to sketch you guys while we were moving, so I just focused more on the sky and the sun."

"It shows," she said, "I can't tell what I'm doing in this picture. You made me look like some desert vagrant wrapped in bandages."

"We all looked like that," said Sokka, "And what I _tried_ to do was sketch you leaning over the saddle, looking at the sun. You stayed like that for a long time, looking like you missed home. I remember wondering what you must've been thinking, so I just set the book down and asked. We talked for a long time."

"Yes, on how much I hated the desert and how you got high on cactus juice," she retorted, smirking, "We irritated your sister as well, so it was a good talk by all accounts."

"Define 'talk' when it involves you and Katara," chuckled Sokka.

"An tempestuous exchange of words involving curses, shouts, and bending on the back of a buffalo, followed by crashing and an excess of sand in uncomfortable places," Azula explained.

"Very specific," said Sokka thoughtfully, "Oh and its _bison_, not buffalo."

"Whatever," Azula scoffed, waving a hand in his face.

Indeed, it was the small moments that brought them together as well, Sokka thought.

Again they fell silent as they sat by the hearth. For a time Sokka nodded off as he heard Azula flip the pages in his book, until she sighed deeply, arousing his attention.

"Well, you show a modicum of improvement from sketch to sketch from what I can see," Azula stated, closing he book, "Though you are far from perfect."

"Uh-huh," Sokka mumbled nonchalantly.

"And you need to develop a better eye for telling apart machines and animals as far as your invention scribbles go."

"Mm-hm."

"That said… you still have potential."

"…Oh?"

"Yes. It is clear to me where your inspiration- your _spark_ as it were- lies, allowing you to truly show off your skill."

Sokka raised an eyebrow at Azula as she pointed to herself, a small smile under half-lidded eyes.

She moved his arm off her shoulder and raised herself up closer to him, making Sokka's eyes widen. Her thumb slid toward his bottom lip and a finger raised his chin to meet her piercing golden gaze. Sokka was taken aback, leaning as his arms propped him up. There was the slightest trace of a blush on her cheeks hidden behind a viper-like seductiveness. He felt bewitched, tangled up in some unforeseen grasp of hers, eagerly anticipating her next move.

"Have I so thoroughly invaded your thoughts?" she purred into his ear she leaned into him, climbing back atop his lap, making his breath hitch, "Can you do nothing but feel inspired by me?"

Her hand slid down along his neck toward his chest as she nipped at his ear. Sokka bit his lip as he felt her nails and palm trace him, her other hand sliding down his arm to intertwine with his fingers. He could feel her warmth against him again, arousing him as his breathing became more labored.

"Can you not help but think of me and me alone?" she whispered again, her warm palm pressed firmly on his chest, nails slowly digging into his skin as she kissed and nipped his cheek.

Sokka's mind raced as to why Azula felt so energetic again. Perhaps she was flattered by the fact that he had been sketching her for a long time. It was not wasted on him, he thought.

"No, I can't help it," Sokka whispered as he leaned his head against her ear.

He brought his free arm toward Azula and slowly wrapped it around her waist, pulling her in closer as her hips grinded against his lap. He returned her kiss with one of his own against her cheek, slowly nipping at her neck as he moved his lips down toward her collarbone. He could here Azula's breath hitch as her body shivered under his touch. Her hands slid toward his shoulders.

"Its why I sketch you," he said against her neck, laying kisses upon it as she arched her back, allowing him to lean into her once again.

His hand slid up to her chest, feeling her smoothness as he began to slowly knead her while another massaged her lower back intently. Her hands were in his hair and on his neck, nails digging into skin and scalp. The feeling only served to arouse Sokka more as he nipped playfully at the satin choker at her neck. He could hear deep inhalations emanate from Azula as his lips parted from her neck with wet smacking sound.

"Its why I love you," he said, their noses brushing against each other as he stopped just short of kissing her lips, meeting her half-lidded gaze with his own, "And you _love_ me for it."

Azula's eyes possessed a glint to match her mischievous smile. She didn't respond to him; her intimate body heat and beads of sweat that trickled down her forehead spoke volumes enough. As they gazed momentarily into each other's eyes Sokka decided to close the gap between their lips. A hand slid up to her neck, gently tugging her necklace as Sokka pulled her in for a kiss.

His tongue eagerly sought out Azula's and their lips smacked nosily against each other in a heated struggle. Yet, before Sokka could deepen it any further Azula parted slowly from him, a hand on his chest. She still had that thoughtful, devious look about her and Sokka struggled to decipher what it meant.

"What's wrong?" he asked almost pleading, his arms around her waist and back, begging her to close the gap.

"I was just thinking," she purred, a finger tapping lightly at her chin, "How many nude pictures of me do you have exactly?"

"Um…" he mumbled.

"And no lying," she added, "I know you must have more than just the few I've seen."

"Uh… as many times as we've done it?" he said, taking a wild guess, "And when I had my sketchbook handy at the time? Quite a few, I think. Why?"

"Hmm… I think I'm going to change that," she declared, both hands sliding over his chest, her nails lightly scratching his skin.

"What do you mean?" Sokka asked, confused.

She leaned in and placed her lips close to his ear.

"I want to draw you too," she purred, making the hairs on his neck stand up.

"Wh-Wha-"

"Like one of your nudes," she interrupted him, suddenly pushing him down to the fur mat rather aggressively.

"Yet, like you I suspect, I require a fair amount of… _inspiration_ to get my creative juices flowing," she said, firmly pinning Sokka by his hands as she continued to straddle his waist. There was glint in her eyes as bright as before.

Sokka blinked. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Yet, he couldn't deny the excitement he felt when he heard her say that. His smirk was as wide as hers.

"Then…by _all_ means, my pupil," he growled seductively, intertwining his fingers with hers, "Lets get them flowing."

And so they did.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Yeah, they're probably OOC in some way, but I'm still experimenting. Please bear with me. If they are tell me how at least.**

**Haven't written anything in a while, but I haven't been idle. Just planning and revising things.**

**Anyway, hope you guys liked this. I wanted it to have some meat and not be short.**

**Let me know if this should be bumped up to an M-rating and I'll do it.**

**Please leave a constructive review when possible.**


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